Wings Torn Against a Thorn
by KayteeFreakingPotter
Summary: Harry is hurting. Draco is hurting. Can they save eachother? Will Ron and Hermione know what to do? Of course Snape will help Draco, but will he bother helping Harry? Draco/harry, Neville/Luna, Ron/Hermione, Hermione/Ginny. Rated for swearing, self harm, suicide, eating disorders, sexual content. Please review (:
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Harry sat with Ron and Hermione over lunch in the great hall, where he was again trying to convince his friends of Draco Malfoy's status as a death eater. Ron and Hermione, who had their fingers laced together, looked at each other and rolled their eyes, without even bothering to comment. Harry's theories were getting old, especially because they were all he talked about these days.

"Harry, aren't you going to eat something?" Hermione questioned. Harry had been pushing around the small amount of food on his plate all of lunch, but Hermione had yet to see him take a bite. He was getting too thin, and she was worried. In fact, he probably even weighed less than she did.

"I'm fine, Hermione. Really. I'm just not that hungry today." Harry responded, even though it was a complete and utter lie. He was starving, and would give anything for a bit of that treacle tart. But he thought of all the calories it contained, and shuddered. He was _so_ heavy. Well, technically, at 120 pounds, he was severely underweight for someone of 5"11, but he wanted to lose at least 20 more pounds. He was fat. No girl would ever want him.

Thanks to his uncle, Harry was covered in bruises and cuts. There were dark bags under his green eyes, due to many sleepless nights. He had scars on his wrists from his recent suicide attempt over the summer. Fortunately, though, this was all hidden with a concealment charm. He could not hide the fact that all that remained of the-Boy-Who-Lived were skin and bones, though.

Hermione suspected the truth. A girl she had known in the muggle world had been diagnosed with Anorexia Nervosa before she had started her third year at Hogwarts. Of course she had gone to the library and researched the topic thoroughly after that. But while she was extremely well-informed on the disorder, Hermione did not really understand it. For once, she had no idea what to do.

Harry, who had been looking blankly around the Great Hall, realized that Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. Excusing himself from Ron and Hermione, who gave him bewildered looks in return, Harry raced out of the Great Hall and pulled out the Marauder's Map. Malfoy's name was not on the map, which only confirmed Harry's suspicions. He began heading towards the Room of Requirement.

When he arrived, Harry stopped and thought. He had already tried this so many times before. But he was desperate. He _had_ to get in. Lives could depend on it.

And apparently, that was enough. The door appeared, and Harry took a minute to get over his shock before entering. The room seemed completely different from what it had been when Dumbledore's Army had been using it. It was very cluttered, and filled with various odd wizarding objects, most of which Harry had never seen before.

A loud sobbing filled Harry's ears. Was Malfoy _crying_? He followed the sound, and then stopped in his tracks when he reached his destination. Malfoy was sitting on the floor, leaning against what looked like a cabinet of some sort. Both of his sleeves were rolled up, and sure enough, the dark mark was branded on his left arm. Bu that wasn't what caught Harry's attention. Malfoy was bleeding. Surrounding his dark mark were several small, yet deep, cuts. When Harry looked even closer, he saw that here were faint, white scares covering almost every part of his arm.

"Malfoy…" Harry hesitated. What could he possibly say? Wait. Why did he even need to say anything? He hated Malfoy. He was a death eater. Shouldn't he just turn him in to Dumbledore?

Malfoy looked up and saw his enemy before him. Without thinking, he picked up his wand and tried to curse Harry. He wasn't fast enough though; his wand had been blasted out of his hand by Harry's disarming spell. He resorted to giving Harry the most menacing look he could muster. Shit. Harry was going to tell everybody like any Gryffindor would. He knew it. He attempted to roll down his sleeve, but once again, Harry was faster than him.

"Why?" Harry demanded. He wasn't exactly sure why he did. The only time Harry had ever taken a blade to his own skin was when he had tried to take his own life. While Malfoy's act didn't appear suicidal, he still felt that in a way, he understood.

At Harry's question, Malfoy fell apart. He was now bawling uncontrollably, and Harry had no idea what to do. He awkwardly placed his hand on Malfoy's back, and muttered things like "It's going to be alright", hoping that it was reassuring.

A glint of silver then caught Harry's eye, and he pocketed the razor blade. Malfoy might have been his sworn enemy, but there was no way Harry would let him continue to hurt himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Harry was no holding Malfoy in his arms, who was crying in to his shoulder. Harry was wondering how in the world this had happened, while Malfoy was too busy wallowing in all of his self pity. Harry could tell Malfoy was in an immense amount of pain, maybe in more pain than he had ever encountered in his whole life. How could he make it better? Harry would have to go to Dumbledore, wouldn't he? He couldn't let Malfoy get away with this. But at the same time, he felt terrible for him. Wait. Since when was Harry supposed to feel bad for Malfoy? All Malfoy had ever done was make his life miserable. He was bad, evil. Yet there Harry was, wishing there was more for him to do than hold Malfoy.

Malfoy sniffled, wiped his tears, and pulled away from Harry. He was pathetic. Crying in the arms of the enemy. What would his father think?

"You won't, um, tell anyone about this will you?" Malfoy questioned nervously. He was more worried about everyone knowing about his self-injury than the fact that he was a death eater; cutting and crying were signs of weaknesses, while at least some would back up his choice to serve the Dark Lord. He scoffed in his head. Choice? He didn't have a choice. This wasn't what he wanted. Who would want this? He was terrified.

Harry hesitated before answering. "Your secrets safe," he started. "Under one condition." Malfoy gave him a questioning look, to which he responded with "Tell me why."

Malfoy sighed. Where would he start? He tried to regain some of his dignity by saying "Why what? Why I've got the dark mark or…"

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" Harry asked. Malfoy couldn't figure out why he wanted to know, but he had honestly been hoping for someone to ask him that for a long time. And so he fell apart again, and tried to find the courage to tell his story through his tears.

"I…it helps calm me down, that's all. No big deal."

"Malf- Draco…That didn't seem like no big deal. You do realize you've been staining my robes with your tears for over an hour?" Harry said softly. Did he really just call Malfoy Draco? He shuddered.

Malfoy didn't answer. How could he possibly tell _Harry Fucking Potter_ the things he had never told anybody before? About his father. About his father's friends. About his sister. About Pansy. About Voldemort. About what he was planning to do. About who he really was. "I've just got a lot on my mind, alright?" he finally responded.

Harry, finally realizing he was going to get no answers, stood up to leave. But then a dizzy spell hit him, and he couldn't tell up from down or right from left. He didn't realize he had fallen until he heard the sound of his head hitting the floor. He blacked out.

"Potter?" Draco yelled. What had just happened? And then memories of his dearly missed sister flooded into his brain, and realization hit him. When was the last time he had actually seen Harry eat? He had returned to Hogwarts for their sixth year even thinner than usual, and his weight had seemed to be dropping ever since. When he picked Harry up off of the floor, that's when he knew that he was right; Harry had to at least be 30 pounds less than what he should be.

Malfoy exited the Room of Requirement, Harry in his arms, and headed for the Hospital Wing. How mad at him would Harry be? Wait. Did he just call him "Harry"? And since when did he give a damn if Harry was mad at him? He didn't care about Harry. But he was not about to helplessly watch another person, enemy or not, slowly starve themselves to death.

As he ran through the halls, he passed Loony Lovegood and Longbottom who seemed to be holding hands. Shock registered across their faces. Then, he ran by Ron, who had Hermione backed up against a wall. Fortunately, neither of them noticed him. He didn't exactly want everyone knowing he was helping Potter.

"Madam Pomfrey!" Draco shouted as he ran through the doors of the hospital wing. "He's fainted, Potter's fainted!"

"Calm down, Mr. Malfoy, calm down." She said and she took Harry from Draco's arms and laid him on the nearest cot.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Harry awoke in an unfamiliar room, and it took him a minute to realize that he was in the Hospital Wing. What had happened? And then he remembered finally getting into the room of requirement, the dark mark, the scars, Malfoy crying, and then falling. He fainted. Suddenly, Harry panicked. What if they knew? What if they knew how little he'd been eating? What if they knew what he was doing? _What if they would make him eat more?_

Madam Pomfrey walked over to his bedside and asked how he was feeling. Harry decided it would be best to lie, and said he was feeling better. She handed him a potion, and Harry looked up questioningly.

"It's a nutrition potion. Seems you're severely malnourished. It'll help you regain your health. And the other one's a stomach-soothing potion. Should help you eat without becoming sick." Madam Pomfrey explained.

Harry panicked. The potions would make him fat. He knew it. But how could he avoid drinking them?

"Drink up." She said impatiently.

Harry, having no other option, brought the smelly, brown potion to his lips, and gulped it down. Then he chugged the next one, which didn't taste quite as bad. It was still horrible, though.

"Care to explain why it appears you haven't eaten in weeks, Mr. Potter?"

"Oh, um," Harry started. "I guess I've just been pretty stressed lately, and haven't been very hungry. I'll eat more from now on." He hoped it would work.

Madam Pomfrey looked suspicious, but she had no objections,

"So…can I go now?" Harry asked

Pomfrey let out a laugh. "Let you go now and have you pass out again? You're going to have to stay here for at least a week."

Harry groaned.

"It's about dinner time, so I'll summon a house elf to bring something up for you." And with that, Madam Pomfrey walked to her office.

A few minutes later, Harry heard a popping sound, and Dobby appeared accompanied with a tray of food. He placed it on Harry's bedside table, and then looked up at Harry with wide, childlike eyes.

"Do you need something, Dobby?" Harry asked irritably.

"Dobby just wanted to ask Harry Potter something." Dobby said anxiously. "Is Harry Potter sick?"

At this, Harry softened, and immediately felt bad for being rude to the elf. "I'll be fine, Dobby." And at this, Dobby seemed to lighten. He smiled at Harry.

"If Harry Potter needs anything, Dobby is happy to be of service." And the elf apparated from the room.

Harry stared at his tray. He told Madam Pomfrey he would eat more. He probably wouldn't be allowed to leave the Hospital Wing if he didn't. So Harry unwillingly brought a forkful of Yorkshire pudding to his mouth. This would probably set him back weeks, and it would take him that much longer to reach his goal. How could he have been so careless? But Harry knew that if he didn't appear to be eating normally, he would be subjected to further questioning from Madam Pomfrey. He couldn't let her know that he was purposefully starving himself. Otherwise, he would constantly be supervised, and he most certainly couldn't have that. So he finished the rest of his pudding, and moved on to his boiled potatoes. Then, he drank his pumpkin juice. With every bite, all he thought of was the calories and the fat. Nobody would ever love him. Despite the fact all he wanted to do was fling his plate across the room, he ate until he could really take no more. Unfortunately, that was not even half the plate. Madam Pomfrey was not pleased.

That night, Harry couldn't sleep. He usually had trouble falling asleep, and now he had the added worry of all of the uncounted calories he consumed. He grabbed the fat on his stomach, feeling absolutely hopeless. Nobody would ever love him. Nobody would ever want him. He was ugly. He was fat. He was stupid. He was worthless. And nobody would ever love him. That was when the silent tears started falling down his face. He tried to stop them, but soon realized his attempts were pointless.

"Harry?" A voice nervously called out.

Malfoy.

Draco walked to Harry's bed and sat down.

"What are you doing here?" Harry wondered.

What was he doing there? Draco didn't even know himself. But he felt he now had a connection to Harry. They both knew each other's deepest secrets, after all.

"And since when do you call me Harry?"

Draco ignored him. Silence passed over the two of them, and Harry finally managed to stop crying, not wanting to embarrass himself. When Draco finally spoke, his voice was soft.

"I had a little sister, you know. Her name was Mallory. She would've been in her fourth year right now."

Harry didn't know what to say. Draco continued.

"During her first year of Hogwarts, which was my third, she became depressed. She wasn't herself anymore. She stopped eating, and soon became severely underweight. She was hospitalized at St. Mungo's and diagnosed with Anorexia Nervosa. She started to get better for a while, and they decided she was well enough to continue her recovery at home. When she was released though, she relapsed. Badly." Tears were now streaming down Draco's face, but he made no effort to stop them. He didn't care anymore. "During the summer before her second year at school, she um, she-"

"You don't have to finish…" Harry cut Draco off. By now, they were both crying. Harry leaned forward and hugged Draco, catching him by surprise. But this time, Draco embraced him back.

"Never thought we'd be here, huh?" Draco laughed, realizing how odd the moment was. But all of a sudden, none of their history mattered to him. Harry had been there for Harry when no one else was, and he decided then and there that he would be there for Harry. A part of him was still scared that Harry really didn't care, that he would leave him, that he would tell everybody. But Harry had been the one to hug him, hadn't he?

Harry was confused. Why was Draco opening up to him? Why was he being so nice? And why in the world was Harry letting him? They weren't supposed to be friends. Draco didn't care about him. Did he? But why would he? Harry was fat. Nobody could love him. Harry so badly wanted a friend. A real friend who understood. In that moment all he wanted was to be in Draco's arms. And so he let his insecurities slip away, and let himself be held.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The next day, Ron and Hermione came to visit Harry in the hospital as soon as they heard the news. As soon as she saw him, Hermione flung herself into Harry's arms and began crying. "I'm so sorry," she whimpered. "I should have done something sooner. I knew. I've known for a while now. I just didn't know what to do…" she sobbed.

Harry looked up at Ron, who was standing awkwardly behind Hermione, patting her shoulder. Ron shrugged, as if to tell Harry that he didn't have any idea what to say either.

"Its okay, Hermione." Harry said reassuringly. "I'm okay now. Madam Pomfrey's taking good care of me."

Hermione let go of Harry and looked at him accusingly. "Does she know what's really going on? Or did you make up some excuse?"

Harry stuttered. Hermione jumped up.

"Harry!" she all but yelled. "You know she can't really fix you without any counseling! Malnutrition is only part of the problem!" She looked at him and burst into tears once more. "Oh, Harry…"

"I'm gonna be fine, Hermione, really. I know what I was doing is wrong now. I shouldn't have let it get so out of hand." Harry lied. He had no intention whatsoever of "getting better", or whatever they were hoping for. Why didn't anyone understand? Did they want him to become fat?

Finally, Hermione had calmed down. She sat down on his bed, and then made room for Ron to sit next to her. They spent the afternoon talking about quidditch, what he had missed in classes, and the drama that he had missed.

"Luna and Neville are finally together?" Harry exclaimed. They had all been waiting for this for a long time, but at the same time, it made him feel lonely. Ron had Hermione, Dean had Ginny, Seamus had Hannah, and now Neville had Luna. And he was all alone. It only confirmed is beliefs that he was fat, worthless, and unlovable. While it was nice to talk to his best friends, he was relieved when they left. It meant he no longer had to paint on a fake smile and pretend everything was alright.

Dumbledore came by after dinner that evening, despite Madam Pomfrey's attempts to kick him out.

"I don't care if you are the headmaster; Mr. Potter needs rest, Dumbledore." She argued.

"Now, now, Poppy. I shouldn't be more than a few minutes."

Dumbledore had pretty much asked Harry the same questions as Madam Pomfrey, and he had pretty much given him the same answers.

"I was just stressed out, that's all. I haven't really had much of an appetite lately, and I didn't realize how little I was eating. I'll make sure to keep everything under control from here on out." Harry assured the headmaster.

Like with Madam Pomfrey, Harry wasn't sure Dumbledore completely bought his story, but he didn't object.

Draco came back that night to visit Harry when everyone else was in bed. It seemed to Harry Draco didn't want anyone to know that he cared about harry. _Well can you blame him?_ Harry thought. _I'd be embarrassed to be seen with you too. _

Draco had just barely asked how Harry was doing, when Harry's eyes caught on something on Draco's left sleeve. Blood.

"Draco…you cut again?"  
Immediately, Draco looked down at his arm and saw the blood that was soaking through his robes. Harry grabbed his arm, and pulled up his sleeve. There were twelve cuts exactly, and they were deeper than the ones Harry had seen last time.

"I thought I took your razor?" Harry said slowly. "What did you did this with?"

Draco hesitated. "Did you really think I'd only have one?" A dark look passed over his face. "Look," he began. "I hope you realize I have no intention of stopping this. It helps me…I need it." Draco hated to say he "needed" something. He didn't like sounding dependent. He didn't need anyone or anything…except for a razor blade.

Harry looked sad. And Hurt. For a moment, Draco felt guilty, and then he got angry. How dare Harry think he had a right to make him stop? It wasn't his choice. Cutting was the one thing Draco had control over. And he wasn't letting anyone, not even Harry Potter, take that away from him.

"What could have hurt you so badly?"

Draco didn't respond. After a few minutes of an uncomfortable, painful silence, Harry picked up his wand. He paused. A questioning look was sent his way from Draco, and he knew that he had to continue. He muttered the counter curse for the concealment charms he had used, and closed his eyes. Draco let out a gasp.

All of his bruises were showing. All of the scratches and wounds. The scars on his wrist. Draco was speechless. He ran his finger over Harry's wrist. "You too?" he asked.

"It was just once, during the summer. I wasn't looking for relief, like you. I was trying…I tried to kill myself." Draco tried to hug him, but Harry shook his head and continued. "I was fed up. Fed up with being told by my Aunt, Uncle, and Cousin how worthless I am. Fed up of nobody loving me. Fed up of always being 'the-Boy-Who-Lived' but never just 'Harry'. Fed up with feeling like the whole world's on my shoulders. Fed up with…with the abuse. Fed up with being fat. I was done. I was just done with life. Unfortunately, Aunt Petunia found me. They took me to the hospital, unwillingly though. They didn't give a damn about me; they just thought it'd look bad on them if I offed myself. So they took away my wand, and everything sharp, and locked me in the cupboard under the stairs. It was a lot smaller than I remembered." Harry laughed humorlessly, despite the tears still falling from his face.

Draco scooted closer, then lied down, motioning for Harry to lie next to him. Harry did, and rested his head against Draco's chest, noting how good he smelled. Right now he didn't care about anything else; in the arms of Draco, he was safe.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Harry awoke in the middle of the night, still in the arms of Draco, who smiled at him. What was he doing? Cuddling with another boy? And not just another boy, but Draco? No, Malfoy? He had to stop with this. What would Ron and Hermione think? What would everyone else think? It's not Like Draco- no, Malfoy, could ever care for him. They hated each other. Always had.

Harry sat up. "What are we doing, Malfoy?"

Any trace of Draco's smile had vanished. "So now we're back to calling each other by our last names, are we?"

Harry sighed. He didn't like it either. But he wasn't about to let himself get hurt, and he didn't want to get laughed at by the entire school. Plus, he wasn't gay. Was he? Okay, maybe that would explain why his relationships with girls never worked out. He always ended up breaking up with a girl because he felt nothing, or the girl would break up with him because it was obvious he felt nothing. Oh shit. How could he be gay? _Maybe I'm just lonely, not gay, _Harry thought.

Similar thoughts were going through the head of Draco Malfoy. He felt ashamed of himself. What was he doing? Cuddling with the-Boy-Who-Lived? Who he was supposed to want dead? But with Harry, he felt a way he had never felt before. Not with Pansy, not with any girl. Something about Harry had felt right. He had always suspected that he could be gay. But it had never been something he would admit.

"Look, Harry," began Draco. "I have no idea what I'm doing either. I really don't. But I do know something about you is right. I know you have to sense that too, even if just a little bit. You are the one that fell asleep in my arms, you know."

"I know, Draco. Maybe that's why I'm so scared. Something this wrong shouldn't feel this right. Nothing has ever felt so natural, so easy to me before. But we're supposed to hate each other, remember? What happened to that?"

Draco didn't have an answer to that, so he looked at his watch, which informed him that it was still only two in the morning.

"We still have hours until Pomfrey will be up. Come here." Draco demanded, pulling Harry back into a laying position. This time, they were facing each other, their noses almost touching. Harry was so close that Draco could feel his breath. All he wanted in that moment was to be close to Harry, and to hug him, and to kiss him.

"Draco?"

"Yeah, Harry?"

"What pain is so bad… that you need to…to slice up your skin just to get away from it?"

Draco paused. Could he tell Harry? Something about him was still scared, scared to trust him. "Why don't you tell me about you first? You've told me bits and pieces…give me the whole story, and I swear I'll give you mine."

A small part of Harry wanted to object, but the more dominant part of him wanted so badly just to get it off his chest. And so he started talking. "I don't remember much about my parents or life when I lived with them. All I can remember is living with my Aunt and Uncle. And so I guess you could say I don't really know love. I mean besides Ron and Hermione, if they even do love me."

Draco looked like he wanted to interrupt, but Harry didn't let him. "For a while, it just kind of sucked. They were mean, and treated me more like a slave than a child. They gave Dudley everything, while I got nothing. That was just hard for a little kid to have to go through, you know? But when I came back from my first year at Hogwarts…things were different. They weren't just mean, they were way beyond cruel. My uncle…he started to hit me. Whenever I did something wrong, whenever I didn't finish my chores in time, whenever I was working to slow. He hit me whenever I accidentally said "magic" or anything about Hogwarts. He hit me whenever he could find a reason to."

By now, all color had drained from Draco's face. He hated hearing of someone hurting Harry. He wished he had known…All those years, Draco had been a dick to him, all those years Harry had been getting enough of it at home.

"He was also verbally abusive, so was Aunt Petunia. They always had something to say, something to bring me down with. And then there was Dudley and his gang. They were even worse than Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. That's why I use a concealment charm; nobody can know. They'll see me as weak. They can't know I can't even fight off a few fucking muggles."

"Harry-"

"And then I come to Hogwarts, and I've got all these expectations to live up to. Funny isn't it? The-Boy-Who-Lived wants to die. Sometimes I don't want to be Harry Potter, the one who defeated Voldemort and all that. Sometimes I want people to see me for me, you know? Because nobody ever really has. But then I think, _Why would anyone want to know the real you?_ Because maybe I am stupid and worthless and ugly, maybe everything they ever said was true. Either that, or I'm fucking invincible or something, but that doesn't seem very likely."

"You're not any of those things Harry. And I'm so sorry I never saw that… I was jealous. You were everything I wanted to be. I'd give anything to take it back, and I'll do everything until you know that."

Harry continued, without acknowledging the fact that Draco had said anything. "And then there's the fact that I can't hold down a girl. But maybe I didn't want to. It never felt right, I never liked it. You know, I probably messed with a lot of decent girls because I was trying to figure out how I felt. They probably all thought that they weren't good enough for me. I kept…I kept trying to go farther with them than I should have because I wanted to feel something. But I never did. You know I've felt more with you tonight than I ever did with any of them?"

"I got Pansy Parkinson pregnant."

"What?" Harry demanded, immediately pulling away from Draco, not bothering trying to hide his surprise.

"Well, it's a lot like you said actually. I went farther with her than I should have, wanting to feel like a man, wanting to feel normal. And also like you said, I never did. She, um, she aborted the baby." A look of pain crossed over his face "Which is something I still feel terrible for. I mean, it's not like I wanted a baby with her…but it's like, that was a human life you know? She didn't give me a say in it though, kept saying it was her body and she'd do what she wanted. But you know, I've thought for a while that maybe…maybe I don't want a girl. And maybe there's nothing wrong with that." He finished, looking Harry in the eyes.

Draco grabbed Harry's face, and brought it to his. Their lips crushed together, and harry thought, _so this is how it's supposed to feel._ Draco rolled on top of Harry, who then sat up and wrapped his arms around Draco's neck.

Something on the other side of the room fell to the floor, and Harry and Draco jumped a part.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Ron was standing at the door that led into Harry's private room in the hospital wing, his wand on the floor.

"Ron-" Harry started, getting to his feet.

He looked mad. Actually more than mad. He was seething.

"Harry…What the fuck are you doing?" He yelled. "Is this why you've been distancing yourself from us lately? Because you'd rather make out with Draco fucking Malfoy?"

"Ron, you don't under-"  
"Don't fucking tell me what I don't understand. Is this what you broke my sister's heart for? For some _phase _you've been going through? She did everything for you. Me and 'Mione did _everything _to make you happy. And this is what you resort to? You've got another _guy_ on top of you, in the hospital wing, which you landed yourself in because you all but starved yourself to death! Faggot!"

And Ron was gone before Harry could even process what he had said.

Draco grabbed Harry into hug, expecting him to cry. But there were no tears, only anger. Anger at Ron, at Ginny, at Hermione, at Draco. But maybe that was all because deep down, he was angry with himself.

Harry pushed Draco aside, and began to run. He had no idea where he was going, but he kept going. He heard the sound of Draco's footsteps following him, but that only motivated him to run faster. He had to get away, he had to get away from his own life. When he stopped running, he looked around and realized where he was. On top of the astronomy tower. Harry hadn't consciously known that this was where he'd end up, but once he was there, he knew that there was no other place to go. No other place to go than off the ledge. And so he approached it, and climbed onto it. _You're finally going to die,_ he thought. That would have been true, had Draco not reached the tower at that exact moment.

"Harry no!" Draco desperately screamed. Harry ignored him. Draco wouldn't miss him. They had only just recently even become friends. Ron wouldn't miss him, which he had made obvious. Hermione wouldn't care he was gone either, not if Ron told her what he had found Harry doing. And his aunt and uncle would most certainly not miss him. So what was stopping him from stepping off the ledge?

Draco was scared that if he approached Harry, that would only make him jump off sooner. So he tiptoed quietly, making sure Harry wouldn't be able to hear him coming closer.

Harry didn't realize he was crying until he heard himself sniffling. He almost laughed at himself. He was pathetic. A faggot. Why else would he be up here, crying like a baby? Why else would Ron have reason to be so rude to him? Why else would Dudley and his gang bully him so much? Why else would Vernon and Petunia abuse him? Could he even consider it abuse if he deserved it?

And so Harry took one foot off the tower ledge.

That was when Draco leapt forward, wrapped his arms tightly around Harry's abnormally tiny waist, and pulled him down. They both fell to the ground. Harry fought, trying to get up. He was screaming and crying out into the night. Draco climbed on top of him and held his wrists down. He stayed that way until Harry stopped resisting. Then he pulled Harry onto his lap and kissed him gently on the fore head.

"Did you think I'd let you go that easily?" Draco smiled faintly. They were both crying, but while he was silent, Harry was bawling and whimpering. Draco held him until the crying died down, then picked him up. This was easy, considering how light he was. Fortunately, Draco was able to carry Harry all the way back to the hospital wing without getting caught.

Draco placed Harry gently into his bed, and tucked him in. He lay next to him. The last thing Draco wanted to do was leave Harry there by himself, but what choice did he have? He couldn't risk getting caught out of bed. And so when he was absolutely positive that Harry was sleeping, he slipped out. He headed back to the dungeons, and soon found himself in his dormitory.

Draco lied awake for what seemed like hours, but eventually he couldn't take it anymore. He needed relief. And so he went to his trunk, pulled out his sharpest blade, and headed to the lavatory.

He almost felt better in just pulling up his sleeve and being able to see the evidence left behind from his last cutting session. He then brought the razor to his skin, and admired the scarlet tears dripping down his scarred arm. It hurt, but not enough. So he went deeper and deeper, until all he could feel was the physical pain, and there was no evidence left that there had ever been any emotional pain at all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello all! So if there is anyone who actually cares reading this, I would like to apologize for leaving this story alone for so long. Things got complicated, and I was going through some stuff. I also lost confidence in this story for a long time, and I kind of gave up. And then I had writers block. But I'm back now! So enjoy.**

Chapter 7

Draco woke up in an unfamiliar room. His head was pounding, and though he had two blankets on top of him, he was cold. He looked around the room, which was decorated in navy blue and white. Draco realized that he was lying on a couch on one wall in the large room. There was a door directly to his left, and two more doors on the wall across from him. In the middle of the room there was a large, wooden table set with two chairs.

He sat up and noticed the bandages on his arms. Memories from the night before started playing in his head, and finally he remembered what he had done. He had cut, probably deeper than he ever had before. There were probably over 20 new cuts, too. How could he have been so foolish? Draco had always sworn to himself that he would never cut so much that he lost too much blood. Now he was going to be in trouble, with whoever had found him. And whoever had found the cuts had most likely found the evil mark on his arm.

More than ever, Draco wished he could be somebody else. How had he gotten this way? He wished he had been born into a different family, a family that wouldn't place these expectations on him. If he had had a choice, this is not where he would choose to be. A faggot. A cutter. A bad guy. A servant of the most powerful dark wizard. A sister less brother. He had to get away. Draco started to get up, only to pause at the sound of an opening door.

A dark figure emerged from the first door on the other side of the room.

Snape.

"Bring me your arm."

Draco just stared, slightly open-mouthed; Snape repeated himself, and then walked through the door right next to the couch. Draco found himself following Snape into the bathroom. The sallow-skinned man pulled out his wand and quite literally drew up a chair, which landed on the stone ground. He motioned for the pale, blonde boy to sit. Draco, who was shaking, and searching for words, seemed so far from the proud boy most knew him as. He climbed upon the chair and tried to make himself look small. Snape pulled off the bandages and inspected Draco's arm.

"We are quite lucky, Mr. Malfoy, that it was I who found you, and not another student. You have behaved quite foolishly. Perhaps I should inform your father of the situation?"

Draco suddenly found his voice, and shouted "No!" while shaking his head violently. "You can't, I won't do it again!"

"I assumed you would respond similarly. I will not inform your father unless you give me a reason. I must, however, make the headmaster aware of the situation." Snape handed a potion to Draco. "Take this. It's a blood replenishing potion. You will need it."

Draco nodded, and gulped down the foul-tasting potion with a grimace.

"Now, go to your dormitory and shower. I will expect you to meet me back here when you are done so we can further discuss the situation." Snape pondered this for a second, and then added "I shall be checking your arms."

Draco began heading out the door and back to his room. His thoughts were racing around his head. Snape knew. Dumbledore was being told. His father would be informed if Draco "gave him a reason". What did that even mean? Draco knew he was going to be forced to stop. But how could he stop? He was already tempted to do it again. It was as if his skin was calling out to him, begging to be kissed by a blade. He soon reached the dungeons, muttered the password, and headed to his dormitory. When he went searching in his truck for clean robes, but when he did, his eye was caught by one of his beloved blades. He grabbed it, and then proceeded into the shower room. Draco closed the door to the shower stall, and began to undress when an idea hit him. Snape said he would be checking Draco's arms. But who said Draco had to cut on his arms? And so he brought the blade to his thigh.

Meanwhile, Snape was sitting across from Dumbledore at his desk discussing Draco. The headmaster's eyes look tired and he was starting to look older and frailer.

"I expect he can stay in your quarters, Severus?"

"But headmaster! Snape exclaimed. "It is not my job to look after a foolish boy with self-destructive habits!"

"It wasn't so long ago, it seems, that you were also a foolish boy set on destroying himself?" Said Dumbledore. A pause followed these words, until Dumbledore continued with "The boy is delicate right now. Vulnerable. This could be very dangerous; we need to approach the situation carefully. You are the head of his house Severus, and not only that, but he trusts you. You understand what the boy is going through. You are the best man for the job, whether you like it or not."

"Very well, headmaster."

"I shall set him up an appointment with a therapist at St. Mungo's. He should probably attend once a week. Also, I will expect him to see Madam Pomfrey for regular checkups. You can set him up a room in your quarters." Dumbledore stated. "And thank you Severus."


End file.
